The Next Best Man Sorry!

LAUGHTER

LAUGHTER

LAUGHTER

Oh!

Oh!

Oh, sorry!

LAUGHTER

Oh, sorry.

Thank you. Sorry about that.

Oh, sorry!

LAUGHTER

HE EXHALES: Ah!

Complete waste of money. Hopeless.

-What are you doing?

-Oh! Ha ha. Sorry, sir.

It's a new stroke.

Still very secret. Very hush-hush, you know. Not in the handbook yet, you know.

Tsh! Tsh! Bounce, boompt!

Quickness of the hands, softly softly, you know. Hah!

-Certainly gave Richard the run-around.

-Oh, who won?

-He did.

Could it be these new shoes?

Not as quick round the court as they should be, you know what I mean?

Oh, by the way, I thought I ought to tell you - I've proposed.

Oh, good. Very good.

Lovely. Pleased to hear it.

Proposed what?

Marriage, Tim. Marriage.

Oh! Great. Lovely. Who to?

-Well, to Jennifer!

-Jennifer?

Do I...do I know... do I know a Jennifer?

-Jenny!

-Oh, Jenny!

Her!

That Jennifer. Ah.

-Who else would I propose to?

-Well, I mean, you might have, you know...

I've lived with her for six years.

Ssh! Please!

No need to shout about things like that, Frank - good heavens!

Oh, that's lovely. Getting married.

-Hah! She's not er, thingamabob, is she?

-No, she's not!

Of course she's not, no. It's the other thing, then, is it?

Other thing? What other thing?

Well, I don't know.

-I mean...isn't there another thing? I mean, I don't know.

-Oh, shut up!

We're actually getting married because it's time we had kids.

I don't want to be the oldest father in the playground at four o'clock.

Ha ha! Nor do I, nor do I, mate.

We've got to do something about it, really.

I mean, there is a tide in the affairs of men.

Exactly. And what are you waiting for, then?

High tide! LAUGHTER

Sorry.

Jenny has her reservations, though.

She reckons marriage does strange things to people.

Oh, no. No, I don't think she's right there. Can't agree with you.

I mean, I mean, look at my mother and father.

No, don't look at my mother and father. No.

Well, congratulations, anyway -

from your oldest and best man friend.

Best man friend. Best man?

Yeah, well, er, actually, about being best man...

Not the biggest, but certainly the best!

Don't worry. I can do it. Toast the bridesmaid.

-Read the funny telegrams. Say no more, Frank.

-I've asked Richard.

What?

Now...now please understand, Tim.

I mean, you're a great mate.

Only it was Richard who introduced us and... Oh, bloody hell.

I'm sorry. I've upset you.

No, no, you haven't.

LAUGHTER

No, you haven't. At all.

Richard's a, you know, good guy.

Not the best at keeping the score in a squash match, but he's, you know...

-I'm sorry, Tim.

-Spilt milk under the bridge. Don't worry.

As it happens, I'm not going to be free on that day, anyway.

When did you say it was?

LAUGHTER

Saturday fortnight.

-Just as I thought. Impossible.

-Can't you even be there?

Oh, I can BE there, yes, but I mean, you know, I'm absolutely up to my ears.

You know what I mean? And then, of course, there's the squash, Frank.

I hear the county team are scraping the bottom of the barrel. Hah!

-I intend to be at the bottom of that barrel.

-Good idea.

I shall have to work on my overhead shot...oh, sorry, Frank.

Mind you, most of my shots are overhead! Ha ha! Oh, dear!

Richard!

What are you doing up there?

Timothy hit seven balls up here

and Joe Muggins has got to get them down.

Well, watch yourself on that ladder.

Actually, Frank, HE put them up there.

Not the best man at everything.

I'm sorry, Tim. I'm sorry.

There's no need to apologise, Frank.

I'm a virtuoso on the second fiddle.

You might say I'm used to riding on the pillion seat of life!

LAUGHTER

I wouldn't fancy bumping into her on a dark night.

One chop to the wedding bells and goodnight, vicar!

LAUGHTER

Oi!

-Hello.

-Is this the sports centre?

-Yes.

-Ta.

Listen, Tim. Look, instead of being the best man, why...

Look, I'm not going to be a page.

As it is, the velvet suit is worn out.

No, what I was going to say was, be an usher.

Look, don't worry.

Richard is the best man, and that's that.

Let's hope he doesn't fall of that ladder and damage the bit where his brains are.

I've got to do some practice on these flicks off the back wall, you know.

And the forehand - gone. It's gone.

Ta, mate!

Put the lights back on!

Argh!

-Is that you, Timothy?

-Er, no.

It's Sammy the Centipede.

Have you wiped your feet?

I've got 100. Give me a chance.

Hello, Mother. What sort of time do I call this?

I call it 9.30. "Don't be silly. That is not the point." Quite right. Sorry, mother. End of warm welcome.

-Don't be impertinent.

-Don't be impertinent.

Sorry, I forgot that as well, sorry. Don't be impertinent.

Ah, good heavens. Ah!

Only two mugs, mother? Where's father?

SHE CLEARS HER THROAT Oh, it's "hmm-hmm!" is it?

-I don't know what you mean.

-Have you had a tiny tiff?

Where have you buried him?

LAUGHTER

We don't mention your father in this house.

As far as I'm concerned, you haven't got a father.

I knew it. I knew it.

I'm a test-tube baby!

LAUGHTER

We don't mention biology in this house, Timothy.

We don't mention much in this house, Mother, no.

Well, whereas the man who's been posing as my father for the last 41 years?

Has he wrapped up a little compost in a red spotted hankie

and gone off with the cat?

If you must know, he called me a nasty name.

I won't say what.

But it started with rat and ended with bag.

LAUGHTER

-Whatever can that be? I can't think what that...

-Ratbag!

Oh, of course! Of course! Ha ha!

I merely asked him, perfectly politely, what he thought he'd

been doing for the whole day at the bottom of the garden.

-Looking for fairies?

-Oh, yes. Take his part.

The plain fact of the matter is, he loves that bonfire more than he loves me.

Well, it has kept its shape, Mother, and it does flare up at night.

Do you know what I mean?

Are you looking for a smacked bottom?

Yes, I was, Mother. Where'd you keep it? In the cupboard under the sink?

Sit down properly.

I simply went out to throw the washing-up water over his bonfire.

How was I to know he was out there, crouching in the dark,

blowing at it?

LAUGHTER

He was quite beside himself.

He came at me with his dibber.

LAUGHTER

Well, I wasn't an ATS drill sergeant for nothing.

I sold him a dummy and he threw himself into the cold frame.

I hope he didn't squash his pumpkin, Mother!

I don't know and I don't care.

-I told him to stay out of my sight.

-Oh, dear.

Now you're feeling sorry, and you're writing him a little note, are you?

Certainly not. I'm cutting him out of my will.

Mother, what were you going to leave him, eh?

What use would Father possibly find for an unopened copy of Mrs Beeton?

And 25 years of corsets?

DOORBELL

Answer the door.

If that's your father, crawling back with his tail between his legs,

tell him to go away.

Thank you, Mother Teresa.

And for your information, I no longer wear corsets.

What?

No bones, Mother?

You have just saved the whale single-handed!

LAUGHTER

Well, he's not having that, for a start!

What are you doing here?

-Tim...!

-You know you're not supposed to come round here.

You know I try and keep my life and this house as far apart as possible.

-Well...

-You know this is Heartbreak Hall. You know this is Doom Castle.

Look, there's been an accident.

What, you mean she IS pregnant?

-No, no, no, no, no! Richard!

-What, he's pregnant?

Shut up! He's broken a leg.

Whose?

Well, his, you idiot!

The lights failed for some reason and he fell off the ladder.

Oh, dear. Best man! Oh, dear!

Oh, my! Well, well, well!

Oh, dear.

So I was wondering if you could be best man after all.

Well, it's not going to be easy, is it? I mean, ha ha!

-Timothy!

-Yes, Mother!

Tell him there's plenty more dishwater where that came from!

-Eh? What does she mean by that?

-Never mind, you'd better get on your way.

-Timothy!

-Look, do you want to be best man?

-Wait a minute, wait a minute.

-Who's out there?

-Mother, don't worry.

It's the Avon lady. I've told her she's 20 years too late.

-Look, do you want to be best man?

-Yes.

Too late for what?

Francis!

Francis, how nice!

The last time I saw you, you were wearing short trousers.

What's this rude boy doing, keeping you standing on the doorstep? Come along in.

-He's got to go somewhere, Mother. He's late. There's a taxi taking over.

-Nonsense. Come on, Francis.

Oh, well, thank you.

I don't know why it is, but he never brings any of his little friends home.

I don't know why it is, Francis.

-Goodbye, Francis.

-Do call me Frank.

-Goodbye, Frank.

I didn't know what it is.

Anyone would think he was ashamed of his own parents!

Well, Mother. Frank's got to be off for another 20 years.

Come on, Frank. Goodbye.

I'll tell Francis when he's going.

Sit down, Francis.

Are you married yet, Francis?

Well, actually, I...

What's the matter with you, Timothy?

Flies, Mother. Flies all over the place. Look at that.

-Can't have Frank in here with a house full of flies.

-Stop pawing him! Sit down.

You were saying, Francis?

Well, actually, I'm getting married Saturday fortnight,

-and Timothy is going to be my best man.

-Tim...!

-Oh!

Why did you do that?

I thought you were going to hit me, Mother!

-I'm happy for you. Mwah, mwah!

-Hit me, hit me!

Congratulations, Francis.

And of course, I shall be there.

-Who's the lucky girl?

-Er, Jennifer. Jennifer Rowley.

-Jennifer Rowley.

I knew a Millicent Rowley but she's dead.

Can't be her, then.

I have to ignore you, don't I?

And where does Jennifer live?

Oh, we live er...er, well, she lives in the same house as I do.

-How convenient.

-They live together.

-Like you and me?

-No, no, not like you and me.

No. No, no. No, no. They sleep in the same bed, you know, and all that sort of thing, yes.

Oh! Well, I hope it's a big one, for decency's sake!

Oh, Mother!

Francis, why don't you and Jennifer come to dinner?

-No.

-Be quiet.

-How about tomorrow?

-No, no.

-Frank is very busy.

-I'll get my diary.

-Oh!

Now, Timothy, you give Francis a nice drink.

-Ooh, thank you.

-There's a half bottle of Lucozade in the sideboard.

I won't be a minute.

You two play quietly!

Your mother's exactly the same!

I mean, 20 years ago, she offered me Lucozade.

It's the same bottle, Frank!

LAUGHTER

Look at this place. It's like a time capsule.

Frank, don't come to dinner, please.

It's pure Sylvia Peters and McDonald Hobley!

Look!

Ovaltine mugs!

Hey, they're worth a fortune now, you know.

Frank, I'm asking you not to come to dinner, all right?

Hey, I bet you're still an Ovalteenie!

-Listen to me, Frank.

-You are, aren't you?

-Yes, I am. I am.

As your best man, don't come here to dinner.

I mean, if Jennifer has any doubts at all about marriage,

this is the last place to bring her.

I mean, this is the Chamber of Horrors in here.

-It's not that bad.

-It IS that bad, Frank.

You know what happened today? Mother threw Father into the cold frame.

She's citing the bonfire as a co-respondent.

He's off somewhere living rough.

I mean, how could you possibly bring her here?

I mean, it's like a Punch and Judy show here.

-And you're the baby.

-I'm the sausages!

-Here we are!

-And this is the crocodile!

Now, Francis, about tomorrow. What sort of time?

Well, Jennifer is very busy, Mother.

Oh, yes. I'm afraid, Mrs Lumsden, that Jennifer's...

-Going to the dentist.

-..having her ears pierced.

-Having her ears pierced at the dentist's?

-Filled.

-Her ears filled.

-Filled? What with?

Mother... Ooh, look at that scrumptious food.

-Yum, yum, yum, yum.

-Leave it alone. It's not for you.

-It's for Francis.

-You can't give that to Frank.

He's only visiting. He's not a prisoner!

-Rubbish!

-It is, Mother. I know it is rubb...ooh, dear!

Don't make that silly face. The wind might change.

Now while you're eating this,

Francis, I'll have a word with Jennifer on the telephone.

-You don't know her number, Mother.

-It's the same as Francis'.

I'm not just a pretty face.

That's true enough, certainly.

Now, this is beetroot soup, Francis.

Timothy forgot to mend the liquidiser, so you'll need a knife and fork.

-Don't I get any supper at all?

-No, you don't.

What's that, a reward for good behaviour?

-That's for being cheeky.

-FRANK LAUGHS

That's for encouraging him!

That's the way to do it! A-ha-ha-ha!

OK, OK, quiet, quiet.

-Where's Nicolas and Clyde?

-Just coming, Miss.

Jennifer?

Jenny. Miss Rowley.

Is that your boyfriend, Miss?

-He's a dirty old man!

-Oh, Brian!

-Oh, stop it, please!

What are you doing here, Tim?

-Well... Oh, by the way, first of all, congratulations.

-Thank you!

I'm sure you're doing the right thing,

even if you're not.

KIDS CHATTER

Can't hear myself. Anyway, it's about supper tonight.

Oh, yes, I'm looking forward to that.

Oh, are you? Well, I'm afraid...

it's off.

-Oh, why? What's happened?

-I know, well, it's very sad, actually.

Mother and Father last night were celebrating

42 years - 42 years! -

of wonderful, wonderful marriage,

an institution of which we are all very much in favour, and...

-Stop that, Brian!

-Goodness.

As I say, we were celebrating,

and Mother had rather too much to drink

and fell on a champagne cork.

Falling on a champagne cork doesn't sound that bad.

On a champagne cork off a ladder.

-A ladder?

-Yes.

She was weeding the window box, you see, by way of celebration...

From the outside?

Ah, well, we can't get our windows open. It's the double glazing.

We've had the same air in the house since 1979.

-So anyway, in short, it's all off, and we...

-Oh, well, I'll pop in.

Oh, no, I shouldn't do that! She's infectious.

-Infectious? How?

-A splinter went septic.

Apparently the ladder must have been poisonous.

-Oh, the poor woman.

-I know.

-Why aren't you with her?

Well, I ought to be, I know, I feel very guilty,

but she's not allowed visitors, would you believe? Not allowed visitors!

Three weeks - she mustn't stir for three weeks.

-Well, what's she doing on that bus, then?

-Er...

You're pulling my leg!

-HE CHUCKLES April fool!

-It's not April.

I know, that's the clever bit.

-They're here, Miss.

-Come on, then.

You're worse than Frank.

I'll see you tonight, all right?

Come on, then.

I don't wish to cross the road, thank you.

Bloody kids.

DOOR CLOSES

-Is that you, Timothy?

-Yes, Mother.

Why are you late?

An earthquake, Mother.

Then they said there was going to be a tidal wave

and the order went out, "Abandon library."

Fortunately I floated to safety on Miss Peabody.

Very gallant woman, and an excellent raft.

Any excuse! Your precious friends will be here any minute.

-Put your dark suit on.

-My dark suit, Mother?

That's only for funerals.

Then again, this lettuce has been dead for two weeks.

-Don't be silly.

-No, right.

Look, these vol-au-vents - FHB.

-FHB?

-Family hold back.

-Oh.

Don't worry, mother, I won't touch them.

I've only just got over the flu.

Now, tell me - I'm very worried about Father, Mother. Has he turned up?

I don't know and I don't care.

Look, these are marzipan and piccalilli.

-Haven't you seen him, Mother?

-No.

You like marzipan and piccalilli.

Separately, yes.

Together I like them somewhere between coconut matting

and a sick headache.

Now, Mother, please, tell me, where is Father?

I mean, is he sleeping rough under the railway arches, or what?

I'll tell you this, Timothy.

When I'm dead, even before I'm cold,

he'll be off to Violet Cathcart.

Violet Cathcart? Who's that?

The lady with the surgical stockings and the poodle?

Or one of the other widows,

passing himself off as a handyman.

What's he ever mended here?

Your playpen, still in pieces.

Mother, Frank and Jenny are coming to dinner.

No Father - what do we tell them?

Well, I shall tell her the whole story.

She ought to know what men are really like.

Mother, she'll not marry him. I mean, you'll ruin everything.

-What about you?

-What?

You left the larder door open, the cat's been at the junket.

Probably trying to end it all, I should think.

Up in the loft,

in the decoration box,

there's a small plaster Father Christmas on a sledge.

It'll cover the paw mark.

But it's not Christmas, mother.

Well, the junket doesn't know that.

Off you go.

And comb your hair. Jennifer's a teacher.

If it's in a mess,

she'll think you've got nits.

SNORING

Father!

Father! HE MUMBLES

Oh, sorry, Phyllis. I must have dropped off, you see.

Oh, Timothy.

-What are you doing here?

-Where am I?

Oh, yes, yes.

Your mother told me to keep out of her sight, so I did.

-It's awful up here.

-No, no, not a bit of it.

Sun's over the yardarm.

Fancy a drink?

In, out or pending?

Oh, pending.

Very fine.

Thank you, Dobbin.

There's peanuts, crisps, pickled onions

in the doll's house ground floor,

cheese footballs upstairs.

Make yourself at home.

Oh, I'm not that small.

I think I'll have a crisp, if you don't mind.

Well, I'm glad I found you here, because you know that...

-You know Frank and Jenny are coming to dinner?

-Mm.

-You know they're getting married.

-Are they? Oh, jolly good.

You know, I always used to make one speech at weddings.

"Marriage is like a compost heap -

"you only get out what you put in."

That is very true. Very true.

But you're going to come down and join us for dinner, aren't you?

No, it's not as simple as all that, Timothy. You know what your mother called me?

-A red-faced bottlenosed layabout, was it?

-Certainly not!

-Sorry, Father, sorry.

-That was last time.

No, she said I couldn't manage a bonfire to save my life.

I've been having bonfires since I was so high.

One match, that's all I need. No paraffin either!

Well, I know that. I know that only too well.

Do come down and join us, eh?

Just for me.

-I'm...

-I never cracked on, you know,

about Violet Cathcart and her rising damp.

-FROM DOWNSTAIRS:

-Have you got that Father Christmas?

I am not leaving this loft until I have an apology.

Well, I'll get you one, Father.

You and whose army, Timothy?

Me and the Ovalteenies. HE LAUGHS

If there's a robin on a log, bring that too.

I've picked something nasty out of the jelly.

What was that?

Erm, she's making some sort of adjustment to the jelly.

-Look, she's not ready. We'll walk round the block again.

-Frank, what's wrong?

Think he was very, very upset, to be honest, Mother.

I think he'd been crying.

Probably missed the compost.

A grown man sulking in the loft!

All you have to do, Mother, is shout upstairs that you're sorry.

I'm not apologising to your father.

He owes me an apology.

Oh, Mother, why was I ever born?

He never apologised for that either.

-Mother gave you pretty short shrift, eh, Timothy?

-No!

-She's apologised in full.

-Well, I'll be damned.

Well, gracious in victory, Timothy.

-I'll go on and tell her.

-Tell her what?

That she's apologised.

Mother, he's on his way down.

-Oh, he's apologised, then?

-Yes, Mother.

What did I tell you?

-A broken reed, that man.

-Yes, Mother.

Good evening, Phyllis.

Good evening, Sydney.

I'm glad to see that sanity has been restored.

It only took a simple apology, didn't it?

-Indeed, thank you.

-No, no, no, no -

thank YOU.

No, no, thank YOU.

TIM LAUGHS

Well, thank you both.

Thank everyone, even me.

-BOTH:

-You?

-No, not me, no.

No, no. Anyway, here we are, happy families.

The Lumsdens.

Mr Lumsden, the sometime waterboard man.

Mrs Lumsden, the sometime waterboard man's lady wife.

And Master Lumsden, little drip off the old tap.

Language, Timothy!

Sorry, Father!

Good heavens, this is an end to apologies and recriminations.

DOORBELL RINGS Ah, right on time.

-Door, Timothy.

-Hair, Timothy.

-Back to normal.

Punch and Judy turn on the baby.

Sorry!

Everything must be sweetness and light.

Let joy be unconfined.

She's probably in the club anyway.

-BOTH:

-Language, Timothy!

-Whoopee!

SYDNEY LAUGHS

You can't help laughing!

Reminds me of another little joke

about a chap called Speedy Gonzales.

-Have you heard this?

-No, thank you, Sydney.

That's quite enough.

-You come and help me get the coffee.

-Oh, I'll come and help.

-Oh, jolly good.

-You're not sitting down!

If Jennifer's kind enough to help me,

you can finish that thing out in the garden.

Oh, fair enough.

Well.

You going to have another Vimto?

-Or you going to stick with the...

-I'll stick with the British sherry.

Ah, by all means.

Well, it's been a very nice evening, hasn't it?

Beautifully stage-managed by yours truly.

A little fib here and there works wonders, you know.

Domestic bliss, you know -

it's very reassuring for Jennifer, really.

Ugh, this sherry is a killer.

I know. Mother beats it up with Ribena.

I must say that Jennifer and Mother

are getting on very well, aren't they? I mean, really!

Like two peas in a pod.

To be honest, I don't know whether or not I would sign up for life

with a girl who got on so well with my mother!

Doesn't say a lot for her sense of judgment, you know?

Yeah, I've been thinking about that, Tim.

What do you mean, sorry?

-Well, it's not Jenny that's got her doubts. It's me!

-Well, why?

-Well, I mean, she's a schoolteacher, you know.

-Yes.

She don't half tell me off sometimes.

Two peas in a pod, you say -

if she's going to be like your mother, Tim,

-I can't go through with it.

-Oh, Frank!

Thanks for the vote of confidence, Frank Baker!

-And good night!

-No, no, Jennifer!

He didn't mean that you were like my mother.

-He was only joking!

-It didn't sound like a joke to me.

-Oh, God.

-Oh, she's overreacting!

Goodness me. There are worse things in life than being like my mother.

HE LAUGHS Though for the life of me at the moment,

I can't think what they are.

I beg your pardon?

Sorry, Mother. Well, I'd better go and fetch her.

I am the best man, it is my duty. 'Scuse me.

I must apologise for his rudeness, Francis.

He gets overexcited.

Do you remember that little satin page suit?

He ruined the knickerbockers at all three weddings!

Jennifer, they don't mean it!

Come back and have a talk!

Oh, it isn't Jennifer!

Sorry, sorry.

Oof!

There he is!

He's asleep, Phyllis.

Be quiet. I'm not speaking to you.

-Timothy! Wake up!

-Oh!

-I've a bone to pick with you.

-Mother, I'm asleep!

Nonsense, I know when you're pretending.

Now, then.

You told your father that I'd apologised,

and I did nothing of the kind.

Never mind that, Mother.

How are Frank and Jennifer? Are they all right?

They're billing and cooing, Timothy.

Small thanks to you. You're always making trouble.

Ruining our party,

mugging some poor girl,

and breaking off Frank and Jennifer's engagement.

I did not!

They've asked me to be the best man.

-What?!

-Unless you're better in time.

And if you want to be better,

you'll have to eat all this up.

What is it, Mother?

It's the party's leftovers,

all cooked together.

Now, I'm going to cut it into soldiers

and stay here while you eat it up.

Oh, Mother, the visiting hour finishes at 5.30.

Ah, but mothers are allowed to stay

with their babies all day.

And all night.

Sister! Matron!

Anybody!